


Rainy Day

by ghostburr



Category: Amrev - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 03:03:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6177598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostburr/pseuds/ghostburr





	Rainy Day

Alexander fluctuated violently from one extreme to another, variously anticipating his meetings with the shady Colonel with excitement and dread, or some combination of the two, wondering what it was about the nature of their rivalry that so often brought them in close, uncomfortable contact. 

“I knew this would be a wet summer. I told that so-called ‘meteorologist’ we met—you know the one, at the dirty inn, last October—that it would be a wet summer, and he scoffed at me. Predicting the

weather is a science, he said. Best left to those who’ve made it their life’s passion to define,” Aaron wrung out his gloves, irritated, and let the water drip carelessly onto the wood floor, “Well this remarkable turn of events proves that particular science fallacious and silly.”

“Oh, don’t be a grump,” Alexander offered tiredly, mind thinking about other things. Aaron looked down at his boots and frowned at a piece of mud that had caked itself onto the heel.

“I hate the rain,” he lifted the shining boot and kicked it against the nearest wall, watching at the dirt clod fell to the floor. “These are new.”

“Expensive?” The Nevisian removed his own gloves and hat, and placed them atop the table next to him in the small office.

 “Yes.”

 “I should have guessed,” Alexander turned his back towards the other lawyer, a small smile affixed to his mouth, “Perhaps next time you will rethink wearing expensive boots outside in the rain.”

 “Better expensive ones than cheap ones that will fall apart and leak,” Aaron replied, annoyed.

 “There is no need to be so petulant,” Alexander reiterated, “I am in a good mood today. I don’t wish to sully it with arguments about boots.”

 “You started this conversation.”

 “Would you rather complain about meteorology or cheap boots, Colonel Burr?” Alexander responded lightly, determined to make this meeting exciting and not dreadful. Fresh from a productive show in court, the General felt his spirit could not be broken after the recent victory—especially since it was a victory over the Colonel.  “We can complain about all manner of things, together, if you wish. We can complain about the stars in the sky, for all I care.”

 Aaron sat down in the nearest chair with a prolonged sigh.

 “Well I’m glad to see you so chipper, in any case, even if it is at the expense of me and my wet boots.”

 “Nothing will dampen my mood today, sir. Not even the rain.”

 The Colonel rubbed his face and then reached down to remove his soaked shoes. Prepared as he was for the inevitable gloating, it still grated on him.

 “Be careful not to get too proud, now, General,” Aaron warned, stoically, as a father to a child, “the only reason you convinced the jury that your argument was the better of the two was because you overwhelmed them with rhetoric and the poor souls had no choice but to assent to your logic, afraid that if they didn’t you’d drown them in superfluousness.”

 Alexander snorted and loosened his cravat, walking over to a bowl of clean water that sat on a small end-table. He leaned over and splashed his face, then looked in the mirror hanging on the wall above it.

 “What you call superfluous, I call facts,” the Nevisian fixed a loose strand of hair back into his queue, “and there were many of them that you conveniently forgot.”

 In the reflection, he saw the Colonel stand up out of his chair and walk over to him.

 “Superfluous,” he reiterated, a spark of joviality lighting in his eyes, “like that water you’re splashing. Unnecessary and vain.”

 Alexander broke down and laughed. “What?”

 “Were you not just outside, completely drenched? And now you’re cleaning your face? What for, General?”

 “Oh my God.”

Aaron returned to his tone of a chiding parent, “Squandering both water and words—two of our most important commodities. What a waste!”

“I am allowed to clean my face if I wish, Colonel,” the General shot back, playfully ducking away from the other man, who had grabbed a small towel from the end stand and had proceeded to approach him with it. “Don’t you touch me with that rag—“

“Dry your face you wasteful fool,” Aaron continued, “stop doing everything in tens.”

Alexander laughed harder and slid away from the other man, catching his arm against the mantel of the fireplace and swearing loudly. “In the name of God, sir, do not touch my face with that piece of garbage!”

The General grabbed his arm and rubbed it, face turning red with repressed mirth. Aaron stopped short in his tracks, stockinged feet catching against the rough-grained wood of the floor with tiny pricks, and flung the rag across the room. Missing its target by several inches, the Colonel imagined what the scene must look like to an observer and began to laugh, causing his aim to fail.

“You’re an idiot, Mr Hamilton. A bleeding idiot.”

 Alexander assumed an expression of mock insult.

“How dare you,” he raised his eyebrows, mouth open in an oh of shock, “this is completely unacceptable behavior!” He made his way to the sad rag on the floor and picked it up.

“First you insult me, and then you toss your dirty handkerchief at my face,” Alexander skirted his opponent in the room, who attempted to reach out and grab him, with a small yelp of mirth, “this is grounds for a challenge! Oh no!”

At the last syllable, Aaron managed to grab the other lawyer’s loose sleeve. Deftly, Alexander wrenched his arm away and made it back to the basin on the end stand, giggling madly.

“A challenge, you say?”

Alexander waved the rag around like a flag, backing himself into a corner.

“Pity that’s not a white rag,” Aaron laughed, referring to a show of surrender. He lunged once again for the other man and with another screech the Nevisian maneuvered himself against a different wall.

“You are incorrigible.”

In the fray, Alexander’s waist hit the end table and the bowl tipped, crashing to the floor as the water spilt out of it. The Colonel covered his mouth, and laughed harder.

“You lout! You knocked it over! Would you look at this mess?” He raised an arm and indicated towards the spill while the General cackled. Aaron pointed a finger, “You had better stop laughing, Mr Hamilton. This is all your fault!”

Alexander could not answer, and shook silently, face crimson. The other man took advantage of his giggling state and made for the cloth, yanking it from the Alexander’s loosened grasp. In a quicker move, the Colonel was upon his prey, hand wrapped around Alexander’s forearm.

“Come here.”

“Colonel Burr, enough of this nonsense!”

“No, no, you’ve got something on your face, just there—“

Between labored breaths the Nevisian let out a loud cry, and descended into laughter once again, “Get away, you imbecile!” He raised a free hand and swatted Aaron away, but not quick enough.

“I think it’s a bit of dirt from where you kissed the jury’s shoes—“

“—COLONEL AARON BURR, YOU ARE NOT BEING VERY GENTLEMANLY—“

His last breaths were muffled by the rag as the quick, black-eyed man pulled him in and rubbed his face. Just as swiftly, Alexander dipped low and scampered away, face alight with breathless glee.

He held up a finger, “You are indecorous, rude, childish,” with each insult, he darted this way and that, still fearing the other man and his dirty cloth, “Not to mention violent, putting your hands on me like that—“

Aaron tilted his head and laughed: forgetting his boots, forgetting the rain, forgetting the time spent arguing in court.

“That is it, sir!” The General grabbed a loose sheet of vellum from a nearby shelf, balled it up, and tossed it at his rival’s head. “You had better stop laughing at me or the consequences will be dire!”

“CHALLENGE ME, Mr Hamilton, I dare you.” In another exchange, Aaron sent the rag soaring into the air—and in a stroke of luck Alexander caught it.

The General’s eyes lit up, “What luck! I caught it! Now who has the upper hand? You should not have wasted your ammunition so superfluously.”

Aaron made a face. “Oh ho ho! And now what will you do?”

“I should like to cram this down your throat,” the Nevisian responded, stepping closer, the grin still affixed to his mouth. Aaron took a single step back, forgetting the broken porcelain bowl on the floor.

In an instant, his heel hit it, and in an attempt to catch his balance, he fell to the floor with a spectacular curse.

“Oh Providence, oh Heavenly Father,” he howled, clutching his thigh. At the far end of the room, Alexander’s face crumbled into gleeful cries between incoherent condolences.

“Colonel Burr, you dim-wit, are you alright? Your stupid leg—“

“—Do not try and save me, brave Alexander, I am hit. I shall die like a soldier—“

“—Would you stop that!”  

Aaron pressed down on a small cut, a result of the shards of porcelain on the floor, and continued his dramatics.

“It is too late for me, Little Hamilton. You have bested me,” he tilted his head back again and gave a small, mocking cry, as Alexander dropped to the floor on all fours and crept closer.

“I have a rag, here, you see,” the Nevisian could barely get his words out between soft, breathless snickering.

The Colonel closed his eyes, trying desperately to keep a straight face, “Grandfather, Grandfather, I see you…”

The Nevisian lowered his head and laid it against the wood paneling, finally letting the peals of laughter escape him. He raised his head, “If you will permit me, sir.”

Aaron removed his hand from the bleeding cut and watched as the other man wrapped it gently with the cloth, all the while grinning broadly.

“That’s what you get for playing these wild games in doors.”

“How can I ever repay you, brave Little Hamilton? Smart, quick-minded, brave Little Hamilton—“

Alexander laughed harder, edging closer to the wall where the Colonel sat, leaning against it himself. In a flash, the Nevisian assumed a manner of mock bravery.

“A repayment is not necessary, my good sir,” he responded in an authoritative voice, “But you must promise me to be more careful, do you understand?”

Aaron widened his eyes, shook his head eagerly, yes.

“But you must allow me to repay this noble deed. I cannot in good conscious let it go unnoticed. You have saved my life.”

The two collapsed into snickering again. Aaron grabbed the other man’s hand, placing it on his cut.

“Every time I see this cut, I will imagine you on all fours.”

Alexander opened his eyes and let out a cry of glee, “You’ll what?”

“Crawling towards me, to service my wound.”

“Don’t be dirty,” the Nevisian responded, still smiling, crossing his legs nervously and remembering, once again, as if waking up from a dream, reality. He bit his bottom lip. “I know you, Colonel Burr. I know you.”

“You’re the once washing your face.” Aaron quipped back, wryly. He turned to look at the other man, marveling at the radiant blush of his cheeks. The room grew silent, even more apparent since the rain had ceased, and steam rose up from the hot, wet cobblestones.

 


End file.
